


(untitled)

by JLSigman



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLSigman/pseuds/JLSigman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts: Basch/Ashe, 03. distraction, 93. Future fic - "Fancy meeting you here"<br/>A/N: Set 25ish years after Final Fantasy XII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(untitled)

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted Oct 3, 2008](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/het_challenge/28571.html)

Basch refused to retire, despite being offered lands and titles and enough servants to man a small army. As he laughingly told Larsa, he would have no idea what to do with a farm and that many servants. More privately, he was willing to admit to himself that he did not want to be tucked away in Landis, a place that hadn't been his home in over forty years. While he had enjoyed his share of lovers over the years, he had never found someone to settle down with. He was quite comfortable in Arcadia, as impossible as that had seemed in the beginning, and if he no longer was the head of his twin's division, he was still very busy training and teaching Larsa's children: both the legitimate heirs to the throne through his political marriage, and his illegitimate sky-pirate-bred daughters.

A visit to the latter set of children had him arriving in Balfonheim one windy evening. While Larsa had never denied their parentage, he was no longer able to see them and the Mistress of Trade as often as they all wanted. Basch, as the Judge Magister in charge of gathering information on the empire's allies and potential enemies, had a bit more flexibility with his comings and goings, and he abused the privilege shamelessly.

“UNCLE BA!”

He found himself assaulted by a thigh-high sprite with light brown pigtails. Francine was the youngest, barely six years old, and enthusiastic with her greetings. She was pulling his leg towards her mother's office door, babbling about a “pretty guest lady too!” that could have meant just about anything. With an indulgent grin, he carefully locked his knee and let her hang onto his leg as he staggered inside. She was alternating between shrieks of laughter and telling him about the cat's new litter of kittens, and he was not completely paying attention to his surroundings, so he didn't heed the little girl's chirped warning until it was too late.

The body he collided into was soft, with small but rough hands suddenly grabbing his biceps to steady themselves. Basch saw a flash of light hair across his vision but was preoccupied with calming Francine's sudden tears from a hard landing after being knocked off his leg. The woman he had nearly knocked over crouched beside him, and without looking he said, “Sorry, Penelo, I wasn't - “

A soft chuckle distracted him, and his head turned much quicker than he had thought himself still capable of moving. “I'm not Penelo,” Queen Ashelia of Dalmasca said with a barely concealed smile.

He could only gape until Francine started giggling at him. While he had been present at many state visits between the two countries, it was always behind the steel plate of his Magister uniform. He had forgotten how overwhelming her presence could be. Neither age, nor child-bearing, nor a second widowhood had dimmed Ashe's light. With great effort he tried to gather his scattered wits and greet her. “Fancy meeting you here,” was all he managed.

“But I told you she was here,” Francine insisted.

“Yes, you did,” Ashe assured her. “Am I not still a pretty lady?”

“Of course!” Basch almost flushed. This meeting had all the marks of a Penelo set-up; he could almost hear the pirate laughing. He would definitely have to have words with her, but not until after the Dalmascan Queen had departed.


End file.
